


Genesis

by Aurora Cee (SC182)



Category: Smallville
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dubious Ethics, F/M, M/M, Secrets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-26
Updated: 2014-01-26
Packaged: 2018-01-09 02:01:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1140123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SC182/pseuds/Aurora%20Cee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There has to be a start to the beginning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Genesis

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to theclexfactor for the beta job.  
> Spoilers: 7.1, the pilot, Nemesis and general spoilers for the entire series. 
> 
> Originally written in 2007.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't owe the characters herein.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> References to episodes "Blank" and "Nemesis".

Redemption was best served to quench the palate of life's choices, a necessity for change.

This was a reorientation of his life. It had to be. Far too many coincidences have added up and the one person that he loved—wanted to believe in him was gone. Dead, no. Spirited away, yes.  
  
Lex knew the definition of redemption by heart. He was better versed in it than most. Constant second chances, and last minute instantaneous saves, had taught him how to make the most of any situation. See what was meant to be seen. Take what was always meant to be his.  
  
It happened again. In a moment so reminiscent of days long gone, of a moment when one breath changed his life and damned and saved him a billion times over, he could see that it was a calling back to his true purpose. It’s strange how chance mirrored Lionel’s lessons shockingly well.  
  
With Lana gone and Clark’s angry visits becoming extinct, Lex found the time and room to think a bit stifling. His mind was always active, but now, with almost forced solitude, he found it even more disquieting. Now elaborate visions of the blonde haired woman, haloed and golden in the darkness of the water, came to him, offering a second chance that many, including himself, felt was undeserved.  
  
This new turn at life was his.  
  
As he sat with the fire blazing-throwing up reds and furious oranges, ice melted in his glass, viciously diluting his drink; something else he should also give up in turn towards purity. He lazily began to draw, sketch the face that gave him, as clichéd as it might sound, a new lease on life. The first rough scratchings give life to long water laden tresses of gold, a sweet light that came from near heavenly intervention. The image repeated itself, until it wasn’t there anymore. Instead, the watery curls became cropped, shorter, darker, and no less free, and the eyes had a color to accompany their wonderfully curved shape. A face became a pallet, nose and cheekbones perfectly sculpted, almost preternaturally so, and lips—like flower petals in the densest, richest fields in spring, they bloomed and blossomed to a warm soft pink hue. This was a face he knew all too well.  
  
One was never more liberated than when one’s subconscious made itself known.  
  
Apparently, his mind and heart had spoken.

* * *

  
Lex realized he hadn’t had much to say to anyone, other than his security chief with Lana’s supposed death looming over him. He was clear now, but important matters were still at hand, and had yet to be resolved.  
  
This was his second chance. To fail or succeed. He needed to only knock on the door and enter.  
  
So a list was formed, a standard practice of all great strategists, and three columns were spread across the page. There were confirmations, negations, and unresolved issues.  
  
Column 1: Visitors from beyond and the homegrown deranged were as obsessed with killing Clark as they were with him.  
  
Suspicion: Meteor rock was more a harm than a simple mutagen to Clark.  
  
Suspicion: Sunlight…He’d hash that out later.  
  
Suspicion: Kal…Clark’s birth name perhaps. That area was still a bit fuzzy.  
  
Negations: Clark didn’t hate him. He didn’t hate Clark either. If their time in the cave was any indication, they were far from over. Like light and dark or particles of attraction, they always gravitated towards one another, whether they wanted to or not. Love was a cruel mistress. Destiny was a hardcore bitch you didn’t undermine.  
  
Lex pushed the list aside. It was time he shared the lesson with Clark.  
  
If finding him in the tunnels was any indication, they hadn’t quite reached that point after everything that had transpired between them.  
  
They were meant to save each other. If this was what he had to do to earn his redemption, he’d do it the only way he knew how.

* * *

  
“Stay on the subject.”  
  
If this should fail, the results would be disastrous.  
  
His men were experienced with extractions. This situation was far more delicate. They had never encountered a target that could probably hear them coming a mile away.  
  
The trap must be set and the bait must be the target’s weakness. An injured woman seemed about right. The damsel was put in place. The pawns laid in wait, and the hero came running after the first sounds of pained anguish.  
  
It’s as simple as a tranquilizer to the neck. The sedative was a refined meteor rock solution. The knight fell, and all the pieces converge.  
  
King takes knight.

* * *

  
He’d been sitting in this chair for too long. His legs were stiff; the trek of blood from his toes and back again progressed languidly, as a testament to his diligence. It was all worth it. Lex trusted no one else with a project so sensitive. Wouldn’t contemplate it.  
  
Of all things, Lana gave him the idea. With that in mind, he couldn’t be too sure that its completion could sustain any deviation from the plan. Then again, his father’s machinations were to thank for the resolution of this long festering problem.

As dawn crept into the quiet bedroom, he took the time to gaze at his charge, searching for every minute change from the last time he’d seen him. He only needed Clark to wake up and help him to validate the efficacy of what he’d done.  
  
Clark didn’t wait long to yield to Lex’s sub-vocal nudging. The room had grown from dull gray to end of summer orange. The light fell perfectly across Clark’s face, shadowing and highlighting the contours and planes with artistic perfection. His green eyes parted slowly, blinking and batting away sleep, before slowly turning to Lex. Clark didn’t look as rested as Lex had expected.  
  
Clark gazed at Lex silently. The progression from confusion to panic to curious was fairly easy to track. Clark shifted up onto his arms, taking in the room and all the fixtures within it. Lots of wood, though light, airy and bright, it was designed with Clark in mind.  
  
“Where am I?”  
  
 Lex had to be careful, and not press his advantage too early. “Don’t you remember?” Lex asked.  
  
Clark surveyed the room slowly, painstakingly observing the room for anything he recognized. The result must not have been what Clark expected as he turned back to Lex with a new light in his eyes. It could only be described as the fresh release of panic.  
  
This was the opportunity to seize. “You’re home,” Lex stated, carefully easing Clark down from his rising panic.  
  
The concept penetrated moderately quickly, and Clark relaxed, slumping back into the down pillows with relief.  
  
Lex shifted closer. “You had an accident.” One that was caused by years of interference and distrust.  
  
“An accident.” Clark repeated, accepting Lex’s explanation."What kind of accident?"  
  
“You don’t remember.”  
  
Clark shook his head. “No.” Vulnerability radiated out of the short admission.  
  
“I’ve been waiting for you to wake up.” The inflection in Lex’s tone was genuine hope. He had been waiting for this day for a _very_ long time.  
  
“How long was I asleep?”  
  
“Too long.”  
  
Clark looked unsure—uncomfortable. Like there was something he wanted to say, but couldn’t manage to roll it off his tongue. “I don’t remember…anything.”  
  
“The doctor said this might happen. Don’t worry, Clark, it will all come back eventually.” Except it wouldn’t. Lex worked on this formula himself to ensure that his vision would be achieved. Clark was the variable. At least, his reaction thus far was on par with all the other subjects and with the dose he received, his memory wouldn’t come back for another one hundred and twenty years. By then, what would any of this matter?  
  
 _Clark._ Clark repeated silently. Trying out the name that was as unique as he was. “Sorry I don’t remember you…..”  
  
“Lex.”  
  
“Lex.” Clark said with certainty and a smile.  
  
The idea struck Lex to bring them closer. Touch had always been a barrier they didn’t cross often. Lex’s hand slide across the duvet, slinking slowly to Clark’s, seeking the warm and give of his fingers. He slid his fingers over Clark’s, carefully maintaining eye contact the entire time; subconsciously holding his breath in hopes that his experiment has been flawless. Clark’s fingers curled and surged upwards, entwining with his.  
  
There will be no forgetting this moment. Pleased was too simple to describe how he felt. Victorious. Vindicated. Fulfilled.  
  
He might take himself to task for allowing his expediency to overtake filling in the gaps. To possess something or someone was merely the first step. Filling in the gaps made all the difference; it made all the difference between a masterpiece or a paint by dot recreation.  
  
His follies had all been previously lacking in some way. He continued to hold Clark's hand, memorizing the feel of its warmth and weight. Now he'd found all of the authenticity he needed.  
  
“Lex--” To hear his name said without suspicion, to have those eyes gaze back at him with trust made this decision feel more justifiable. “Can you help me…to remember?”  
  
“Yes, Clark.”  
  
The remnants of the past would be eliminated in their own time. Carefully, he’d remove the blemishes from the history that Clark would surely ask him about. This was the start of a perfect union. No secrets. No lies. This was the beginning as it was meant to be. Their destinies united into a singular path, and nothing to deter them from reaching their future together.  
  
Lex squeezed Clark’s hand tighter. His thumb caressing the surprising soft skin, while soaking up Clark’s open smile. This was only the start. He only needed to will it to be so.


	2. Paradise Found

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> History was always a matter of interpretation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sequel to Genesis. Originally written in 2007. 
> 
> Thanks to Theclexfactor for the beta job.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own the characters herein.

Rule 36 in the Lionel Luthor Rulebook of Mindfuckery and Will Subversion: Never replace, only substitute.  
  
Clark seemed to enjoy their cottage in the Colorado Mountains. Even more so when dawn broke and filled the valley below with light. Those were mornings when Lex woke to the shock of finding Clark gone. Of course, he’d panicked, thinking the serum had failed, and Clark had taken his leave before Lex could remediate the situation. But then, he’d get out of bed, take a few steps and stop at the sight of Clark’s familiar frame folded into a lush veranda chair, stroking the head of another dog that mirrored Shelby to a tee.  
  
When he said to a tee, Shelby and his replacement shared an uncanny and ardent dislike of Lex. The difference between Shelby and _Sage_ was the fact that Lex had given Sage to Clark as a forgiveness gift. Nothing was sweeter than a boy and his dog or a token of affection from a thoughtful and contrite lover.  
  
This time, Lex opted for full disclosure with Clark, or really disclosing enough to make Clark remember their time as he wanted it remembered. History was always subject to the lens of the winners, leaving the losers to shiver in the shadows of defeat. Each tale he told began with an extremely solemn exploration of the nature of their rocky relationship and the forces that were constantly pulling them apart. He could be a little self-congratualory here because each time he had Clark's attention and the full expansion of his belief, Lex demonstrated a flawless execution of Lionel's technique. His father would have been proud.Like Newton’s Second Law, there was an entirely separate and acceptable _distortion_ on which to rebuild the foundation of their relationship.  
  
Clark seemed to accept it all. Every so often interjecting with questions and wanting further explanation about the changing tides of their rift. Lex used the obvious weapons in his arsenal: their age difference, attempting a same-sex relationship in a small Kansas town, the town itself and its hate for all things Luthor, and their secrets.  
  
He couldn’t believe he’d even contemplated disclosing that part of their past but he did and spared no details for Clark's new memories. Their entire association had a mythic, almost fairy tale feel to it. So Lex told an elaborate story about the day of the meteor shower, and the uncanny way the sky rained fire, only to send him an angel, who reached out to him and caressed his cheek, thus sealing their connection forever. It’s so fantastic and lofty, Lex wondered if Clark actually believed him.  
  
There was no indication that Clark hadn’t. No shying away from touch. No avoiding attempts to make eye contact. Nothing but normal Clark affection.  
  
With every fairy tale, monsters, witches, villains abound. All those obstacles had set a chain of events into motion to keep things clean. Very satisfied was how he’d felt when the news of Lois’s international newset misadventure entered Smallville's gossip mill. Smallville gossip mill. Oliver Queen wouldn’t be stepping in anytime soon to investigate. Not with his company being ravaged by a shadowy group buying up stock left and right. Good Old Ollie wouldn’t dare come after Lex until his house was in order.  
  
Chloe…She was a wildcard Lex hadn’t completely figured out how to sort. She was a support to Clark, but more than willing to bring Lex down at all costs. If he knew one thing about her, she’d sacrifice anything for the people she loved: Clark, her father,  and her absent mother included. Those were his bargaining chips. She’d fall right where he wanted eventually.  
  
Lionel and Martha presented an interesting quandry. The idea of Clark’s mother and his father was so abhorrent to him. Not only, because any union between them would make them brothers…at least in the legal sense, but Jonathan Kent’s sworn hate of all things Luthor precluded Lex from seeing Martha and his father as more than desecraters of the Mr. Kent’s memory. There was no way in hell he could just erase the legacy of Ma and Pa Kent. So much of who Clark became was due to their influence and guidance. He worked with what he had, manipulating years of semi-suspicions and potentially compromising situations into a potential truth.  
  
Speaking of the dead or rather those that supposedly were, there was no doubt in Lex’s mind that Lana wasn’t dead. Caution kept him from mentioning anything about her straight off. Who was to say that Clark’s mind could resist conjuring up the image of Lana without falling under her spell. She was a liability. His former wife had her chance and sought her fortunes elsewhere. Therefore, like so many others before her, she was now a distant satelite revolving peripherally at the edges of the life of Lex Luthor.  
  
As he and Clark sat in the primary sitting room, there was almost some relief on Lex’s part that Clark instinctually went for old habits. Clark wore a wonderfully red button-down shirt and tailored to fit his frame perfectly. The choice was soothing. Almost as comfortable, strangely enough, as Clark’s long legs spread across his lap, with his bare feet being caressed lazily by Lex’s hands.  
  
Lex spun a new yarn built on a foundation as solid as the old Kent homestead, as Clark listened so attentively. He simply stated the truth, as circular as it was, that Jonathan and Martha Kent’s marriage had been on the rocks as the farm’s debt continued to rise, and Jonathan refused to seek help in controlling their finances. The strife escalated when  Martha went to work for his father during his transient period of blindness, much to Jonathan, Lex and Clark’s chagrin.  
  
His mood shifted to pure seriousness. Face stony, eyes averted from Clark as if he was unearthing some buried dark secret. Clark only came closer, as the suspense built. His hand reached for Lex and his eyes implored Lex to continue. Lex could have grinned. Almost.  
  
“Then Martha got pregnant during your Sophomore year.”  
  
Clark’s brow wrinkled in confusion. “You said they couldn’t have children…that’s why they adopted me,” Clark said, an uncertain frown growing across his face.  
  
Arresting control was easy. “They loved you on sight that’s why they adopted you.”  
  
Clark nodded silently in understanding, and forced acceptance. “Your father was suspicious. Martha had hidden a watch my father had given her, and Jonathan found it. He didn’t want to believe it, but part of him conceded to reason. After being married for nearly twenty years and his wife pushing forty, her being pregnant could not have been by his doing...” Pause. “She lost the baby in a car accident after my wedding. It was a matter of days later that she quit working for my father.” Lex sat back, portraying an entirely pensive front.  
  
Talking about Jonathan Kent’s death was something he’d never believed he’d have to do with Clark. After Clark had spurned his help the first time, there would be no more attempts to talk about the man who’d been a thorn in his side from day one. Other reasons to avoid talking about Jonathan included Lex’s guilt and being potentially responsible in some way for the man’s passing; then again, he shifted that to the other man.  
  
“I feel guilty.” Lex began.  
  
 “Why?”  
  
“The night your dad died was the night he won the Senator’s race. I’d given him hell as his opponent, as any good opponent should, and could've have just as easily claimed the seat, but alas... Apparently, the stress of it all was too much and he hadn’t disclosed how severe his heart disease was. The stress was his undoing literally."  
  
Even if Clark hadn’t remembered his father’s death, Lex marveled at the way the light in Clark’s eyes dimmed.  
  
“That wasn’t a good time for anyone. We were broken up again. You had valid reasons for leaving me.” A very true concession. “ You pushed people away after your dad’s passing and we let you. Your mother took over his seat as senator, leaving you all alone with your grief.” This was the introduction to the Fat Man-Little Boy of their relationship.  
  
Lex cotinues his confession. “I sought comfort and found it with a friend…a mutual friend of ours. An on-off again girlfriend of yours and she--”  
  
“She?” Clark parroted, surprised, and completely thrown off by the admission of sex.  
  
“Yes, she—Lana became my wife for a briefly devastating period.”  
  
Clark remained silent, his face vacant of any real emotion, and emotion was what Lex always counted on to play on Clark’s moods.  
  
Clark rose and walked towards their bedroom door. Of course this had been too simple, Lex pondered as he watched Clark walk away. If he were Clark, he’d feel a tremendous amount of jealousy and bitterness. Lex knew Clark. Clark was never bitter, but he hadn’t mentioned Lana before either. For someone so petite, she had been the iceberg to their titanic relationship, one that neither of them had expected.  
  
He’d play it by ear and pretend it didn’t bother him the longer Clark remained distant and quiet, the more relieved he felt at having the double compartment in his ring. The idea had floated into his head one day. A versatile ring with a polished meteor rock stone seemed so novel and unassuming. It was smart, low-key, and his best bet for surviving an enraged Clark.  
  
The sun was ready to set. Sometime ago, Lex had turned his attention away from the door, finding the view from the valley beyond the windows to be well worth the purchase of the palatial cottage. In one hand, he held a glass of melting ice and Scotch, and on the other, the ring.  
  
Lex was startled by the press of a cold wet nose to the back of his hand. It was the dog and behind Clark. His expression was completely inscrutable. On him, that was entirely too disturbing.  
  
He watched Clark gaze out of the window. Immobile and stern with the orange and red tones cast on him from the sun, Clark looked all the more ethereal. Preternaturally beautiful. At one time, he thought Clark was perfect. Perfectly beautiful. Perfectly sensitive. Perfectly innocent. Now, he knew better. Clark was sometimes fatally moralistic. Doggedly stubborn. Impossibly incapable of seeing the world as anything other than absolute black and white.  
  
In the years that followed, he could see that Clark was composed of just as many right things as wrong. This time, though, he was entirely justified in being angry with Lex, more so, depending on how deep the retold memory penetrated.  
  
“You could have told me anything, Lex. Anything to make this—us, our restart perfect. I figured that I must have loved her, because she was my friend and a girlfriend at that.”  
Clark kneeled beside him, eyes bright, wavering lightly as they concentrated on Lex. Openly imploring him to be truthful. “Did you really mean it? I mean, was it a mistake?”  
  
His green eyes were so open and begging Lex so loudly, that Lex couldn’t refuse. There was no secretly indulging Clark here. More like giving him the one bit of honestly he truly deserved. “The biggest one I’ve ever made. Countless things I regret in my life. More than a few involve you."  
  
As murky orange light faded into evening gray, they remained in a state of natural silence. “I guess the only place we can go from here is forward.” Clark said before turning to take in Lex’s side profile.

“I’ll never lie to you.” Which was a lie.  
  
Clark leaned over him kissing his lips, softly-- sweetly; in the same fashion Lex had coaxed him into remembering. Years of fantasy had bred this reality.  
  
His hands wound through the incredibly silky strands of Clark’s curls, eventually bringing their kiss under his control. By no means was Clark submissive but was pliant to Lex’s guiding. Lex broke the kiss for lack of air. As Clark’s face drew back from his, he could have sworn Clark’s eyes oscillated from green to red to blue and back again.  
  
Another strange and wonderful curiosity about Clark. His apparent lack of need for air would come in handy as the relationship redeveloped.  
  
Clark rested his forehead against Lex’s, facilitating an intimately deep connection. “I know you won’t lie to me.” He whispered.  
  
“Never.”  
  
They called it an early night after their kiss. Every second his fingers trailed over Clark’s skin, drawing out a hiss or moan or a half gasped sigh of _Lex_ as he touched Clark in the places of his choosing. As long as he could have Clark in his arms, pressed against him, awake or slumbering, he’d never tell a lie again...and get caught.  
  
He stroked Clark’s hair and listened to him breathe. History was subject to interpretation; this was simply as things should have always been. Not after this night. Their relationship would be based on the ultimate truth--his.  
  
That night he had nothing but pleasant dreams.


End file.
